


Games in the dark

by siberianchan



Category: Nightrunner Series - Lynn Flewelling
Genre: A job during Mourning night, F/F, Gen, M/M, and some time honoured traditions, mention of intercourse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28619310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siberianchan/pseuds/siberianchan
Summary: Seregil has a job to run on Mourning Night.He ... witnesses how people honour some well-established traditions.
Relationships: Alec í Amasa/Seregil í Korit
Kudos: 7





	Games in the dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [infinitenat](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=infinitenat).



> Wheeeee!  
> This is a gift for infinitenat (s3lene on tumblr) for the Secret Sakor event on our Nightrunners Discord - I was always just outright gleeful about the whole inofficial tradition of just wandering off and getting it on and - well.   
> Have fun!

Winter had never been Seregil’s favourite time of the year. Oh, snow was pretty to look at, yes. And making snow birds was fun, just as fun as getting into snowball fights with Micum, Kari or any of their brood – or with Alec. Hunting in winter had a special charme to it as well, maybe due to how silent the woods were, deeply covered in a thick, white blanket of ice crystals and enclosed air.

All this, of course, only applied if one had the good fortune to quickly return to a warm house, a roaring fire and a nice, hot meal or at least hot, mulled wine, laced with spices and orange peel.

All this, of course, applied to places with thick, heavy snowfall and crisp, cold air, inland areas like Watermead or the mountains of Bokthersa or the mountain range in Northern Skala where he and Alec had spent two blissful, lovely years.

Coastal areas were an entirely different area, as well as cities.

Rhiminee was a seaside city. This meant sleet, instead of snow, the sound of boots and hooves and wheels slithering to some half-molten, watery mud, rather than the soft cushions of silence in which they could bury themselves. The cold hit different here as well, laden with dampness and a whiff of rain that gnawed its way into the bone and wouldn’t let go even hours after Seregil found his way back to a hot fire and dry, soft blankets and Alecs loving arms.

Needless to say, Seregil hated jobs during winter.

“You know Maleta’s house,” Alec sighed, as they were discussing the one for tonight for what felt like the uptenth time. “She’s out to celebrate Mourning Night at Lady Ysmay’s place and won’t be home well until dawn tomorrow-”

“Exactly!” Seregil admitted that maybe, just maybe, he sounded whiny. Just a little. “You’ve been at her place two times. The house will be dead silent. You will have no trouble whatsoever!”

Also Alec wasn’t troubled nearly as much by the cold as Seregil was, be it the crisp, dry air that made for ruddy cheeks and nose or the wet, sleet-laden slush that laid heavy on their bones and backs. Why, oh why could Alec not have some mercy and just agree-

“Come on.” Alec, because he was very evil and at the same time very sweet and also knew how to be effective, leaned over and kissed him until Seregil felt himself go soft against him.

Then he kissed him on the nose and then on the temple. “Get dressed now, will you?”

Seregil sighed. “Only if you promise to continue the moment I come back.”

Alec laughed. “Get. Dressed.”

Too late it occurred to Seregil that Alec had never made any promise before he had kissed him good bye and for good luck.

Ah well, he muttered to himself, he would get him to continue, most definitely he would. Vowing to himself he put up the hood of his dark cloak to keep the sleet from his hair and neck. Then, huddling into the cloak he marched on, throdding his way to the noble quarter in hopes that it would be a quick business.

Of course, it wasn’t.

First off, depite his predictions the house was many things, but empty and abandoned was not one of these things.

Instead, of course, the servants were taking the expected advantage of their mistress being away.

Seregil climbed over the garden wall and on to a lime tree and then had to deal with the fact, that apparently the bushes in the garden in the midsts of a coastal city winter were just the perfect spot for a little tryst.

One couple had finished with enough noise to be heard on the street (Seregil prayed nobody would look up and spot a very suspicious shape in the branches) and he watched them stroll back in, arm in arm and giggling.

Seregil heaved a soft sigh of relief once the door closed and already set to move down the tree.

The door opened again and another couple appeared, two lads this time, already tangled up with one another and too preoccupied to notice Seregil as they leaned against his tree to engage in a very passionate and from what he could see very sloppy kiss.

Seregil glanced upwards to the dark, cloudy sky and wondered whether the Immortals were having a laugh at his expense. This could be Alec and him, safe and snug in their warm bedchamber. But no. Here he was.

Well. Served him right for working on Mourning Night.

He waited until the couple had disappeared into another shrub of bushes and he heard very unmistakable sounds of intense and ardent love making before he finally dared to slither down the tree, flatten himself on the disgustingly wet ground and crawl to the house, one arm length at a time, always in fear of making a sound.

In the bushes the sounds of lovemaking grew more intense.

He better hurried in before they were done and came back.

Quickly he reached up, found the doorknob, moved- it opened with a soft _click_. Good.

He slid in and closed it behind himself, sniffed- cold ashes. Lingering warmth that carried the scent of tea, sausage and bread. Kitchen.

Not even an ember was glowing in the hearth. The good lady obviously took Mourning Night serious.

Good for him.

He quickly reached for his light stone, crudely but securely tied to a stick of ash wood and held it under his cloak, having it peek out just enough to illuminate the next few steps ahead.

He found the stairway and carefully, step by step, bit by bit, never making a sound.

He found his way to the first floor, where Lady Maleta had her drawing room, her salon, a library and a study for whatever business ventures she was pursuing at the moment. Seregil didn’t have a clear idea, which just meant that he would have to find out sooner rather than later. Good thing that the lovely Lady Maleta was very keen on her salons.

For tonight, he had other plans.

Just as silently he sneaked up another stairway, this time to Lady Maleta’s most private rooms – another, even more intimate drawing room, her dressing room and, at long last, her bedroom.

His contractor had very confidently declared that the items in question would definitely be in the bedroom, hidden in the bed – in, not under. Seregil suspected a hidden drawer in one of of the bed posts.

He would just-

The door creaked.

What-

She couldn’t be back, no, the celebrations would have barely started, she-

Two female voices giggled as they came closer and Seregil had never crawled underneath a bed so fast.

“You must be mad, what if-”

“She won’t be back until tomorrow, come-”

Seregil heard the rustle of skirts and the whisper of some laces being loosened.

“Oh, look at you, aren’t you lovely-”

“Oh, Bessy…”

Then Seregil heard the soft creak of bed ropes and flattened himself very tightly to the ground once more. Just in time for the lowering mattress to brush his back.

“Such cute ears-”

“Oh I love it when you do that…”

Seregil decided that it probably was for the best to slide as much toward the head end of the bed as possible. Just in case the two girls were about to get wild.

They did.

And they moved around.

It was a very loud vigil and a very long one, not to mention a very frustrating one.

Seregil was very cold and very sore when he finally dared to move out from under the bed and could actually focus on the task at hand.

At the very least the gods be damned jewel case was where he thought it might be. Bedpost, left side on the head end and also the blood case contained the stupid ring the stupid duke wanted back, so Lady Maleta wouldn’t have evidence of him cheating on his wife with her to use for whatever nefarious purposes these trinkets were used. As long as it was not to the end of consuming someone’s soul to gain eternal life, Seregil really didn’t care all that much anymore.

Well, alright, he cared for the payment. A little.

Not enough to put up with all this without the prospect of Alec seriously reimbursing him for all this.

When he came back the _Stag &Otter_ the place was, predictably, cold, dark and quiet.

This always sent a tingle up Seregil’s spine, a bad memory – but the air carried only the scents of a cooling hearth, cold meats, bread waiting for tomorrow and a whiff of the beer Ema bought in, since despite her advances in the kitchen, brewing was still something that eluded her and Seregil was forever grateful that they were located near some very good brewers, one or two of whom had created a proprietary brew to be sold only to the _Stag &Otter._

Dry, fragrant kindling for the new fire tomorrow.

The beeswax polish for the woodwork.

Seregil breathed it in deeply. It had taken time and considerable effort, not to mention the almost certain loss of Alec, of his world, his _talimenios_ , until he had been able to consider this place a home. It wasn’t the _Cockerel_ , it never would be. But that was alright. It didn’t have to be and it shouldn’t be.

The glyphs glowed softly as he whispered the passwords, the floors creaked gently under his feet.

And the hidden rooms welcomed him with familiar scents and the familiar sounds and the feel of the mermaid statue next to the door as he entered and threw his coat over her.

The darkness was only broken by a few cold spots of pale light. They helped Seregil find his way to the couch, find the contour of a pale head and then managed to put his arms around Alec’s shoulders.

Alec jolted up and then turned around, putting his arms around Seregil. “Ah! You’re back!”

“Yes.” Finally.

Seregil leaned down, nuzzling the soft skin behind Alec’s ear.

“How was the job?” Alec murmured, warm and firm against him. “You’ve been gone forever.”

“Successful.” Seregil allowed himself the luxury to lean into him. “And well.” He blinked up to him. “I am late because well. It’s Mourning Night.”

“Yes?” Alec’s hands ran down his back. “You’re all cold.”

“Hm.” Seregil had a good idea on how Alec could warm him up and nuzzled him, down the next this time. “It is cold outside. And I had to be patient.”

A step to the bedroom.

Alec seemed to get the idea and took the lead. “Oh, really? Despite Lady Maleta being out and about?”

“Uh-huh. Lady Maleta was out and about indeed. Her servants though were very much there and so busy…”

Alec laughed. A door creaked. “Games in the dark?”

“Yes.” Seregil breathed against his lips. “What would be Mourning Night without them?”

“What indeed?” Alec laughed and then pulled him to the bed, closer and closer, to make sure he would be properly warm again.

Games in the Dark, after all, were a time honoured tradition on Mourning Night. It would have been a shame if they wouldn’t partake in this.


End file.
